Saw This A Few Months Ago, Saw This Again Now, Still One Of My Absolute Favourites

saw this a few months ago, saw this again now, still one of my absolute favourites <3

Dance Lessons | Harry James Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Wordcount: 12200 words (Yes, really. Do you ever just start to write a little oneshot and then it turns out as a fic with over 10000 words?)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, sexual tension but no smut, fluff, slight angst, slow burn i guess

Summary: Harry asks you to teach him how to dance for the upcoming Spring Ball.

a/n: Set in Harry’s sixth year. English is not my native language, so there might be spelling/grammar mistakes. (The beginning is inspired by this oneshot)

Not many could say that they had faced Voldemort more than once and had survived, but Harry Potter was one of the few lucky ones that had gotten away every time. And if that wasn’t enough, Harry had defeated horrifying creatures, had broken into the Ministry and had saved the wizarding world several times – more or less accidentally, but hey. He had dealt with Umbridge and fought Death Eaters.

To the world, he was a hero, he was the Boy Who Lived.

So yes, his record of fighting the evil was quite impressive for a sixteen-year-old. But there was one thing he knew he would never impress anyone with and that were his dance skills.

Because Harry Potter couldn’t dance for shit.

Keep reading

thank you so much for the fic rec love <3

☁︎·̩͙✧

Harry Potter

✦ = finished | ✧ = not finished

you’re welcome to recommend me some fics! harry potter | fic recs <—— you will find chapterd stories here!

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blurbs/imagines

Don’t walk away . two by @kalimagik

genre: angst, golden era | summary: Harry’s getting distant... you tried so hard to keep him but things don’t always go your way. You’ve been out of it for awhile but you start receiving little notes that make your day better

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Harry’s girlfriend by @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy

genre: fluff, golden era, jilly alive era | summary: jilly, sirius, & Remus find out Harry has a girlfriend

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Howlers by @ellescrunchie

genre: fluff, golden era, no voldy moldy! au | summary: everytime harry fucks anything up and gets in trouble, there is a bet: which howler will he be receiving?

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Love letters by @parker07potter

genre: fluff, golden era | summary: harry writes letters to you with the intention of you never seeing them. Well that’s not what happens me

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Meeting Harry's Family by @gemma-collins-ily

genre: fluff, jilly still alive, no voldy moldy | summary: meeting Harrys parents for the first time

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Mystery girl by @nbivagant

genre: fluff, golden era | summary: harry meets someone rather special one night on the astronomy tower

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thursdays of dark gray skies by @/ellescrunchie

genre: fluff, ravenclaw! reader, golden era | summary: who would have thought that one study thursday of dark grey skies could change so much? | notes: this is the cutest fic I’ve ever read 🥺

— series

✧ Father dearest by @emmelineparker308

genre: angst, fluff, sirius blacks daughter au! | summary: Your third year at Hogwarts is about to start and with it come a lot of new changes. Harry, your best friend, and crush is in trouble from some man named Sirius Black. You try desperately to keep Harry safe but what happens when you find out some heartbreaking, mind-shattering information about your father?

the golden era masterlist

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harry james potter

thunder-bombs

synopse: you love thunderstorms, until one night they bring bad memories back. who better than harry to make you feel better? (3.4k words)

thursdays of dark grey skies

synopse: who would have thought that one study thursday of dark grey skies could change so much? (5.8k words)

howlers

synopse: everytime harry fucks anything up and gets in trouble, there is a bet: which howler will he be receiving? (1.4k words)

*dies because this is too adorable*

First off, my darling Anon you are a cruel one to challenge me this early into the year to write a fluff. But, I'm not gonna let you down and I'm going to try to do this BUT I'M SORRY IF IT'S NOT SATISFACTORY, LOVE. And thank you for sending a request <3

𝑱𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 (𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓)

It was a rowdy night, and everyone was high on firewhisky and probably the blunt that Remus brought in earlier.

The Gryffindor team just won another Quidditch Cup this year. And as it was their last year on Hogwarts too, they wanted to spend as much as they could having fun and wrecking havoc undetected ofc bcs who tf had the audacity to sabotage their chance of winning their very last House Cup? Well, you being you felt like all these celebrations were slowly becoming too much for you to handle, so you decided to snuck through the Lady Portrait and tip-toeing your way down to the kitchens. 

It was very weird, walking through the halls at night. There's these indescribable feelings of melancholy and also sadness that crept inside of you. These walls… they held stories of the old days, decades and even centuries behind them. And sometimes it felt really surreal that you were there, standing between those walls, you made a name for yourself, being a part of the history that was written there. It was all like a dream. But it's all coming to an end, as it was 5 months away from your graduation day. 

As you were passing by one of the large windows, you had to stop for a second and stare because there he is, James Potter. He and you have always been friends with each other. Sure, you're not as popular nor outgoing like all of his group of friends, and that fact always made you wonder but he would always reassure you that it was okay and he doesn't care, he only cared about being friends with you. So here you are, confused as to why this boy isn't mingling with the crowds upstairs, but instead sitting here in the dark all by himself.

"Jamie?" You whispered, silently hoping that it was loud enough for him to hear, but not too loud because you didn't want to surprise him. He perked up at the sound of your voice and he turned his head to you, "Hey darling. Fancy seeing you out here, hm?".

You just fondly shook your head and decided to sit next to him. And as natural as it was, he moved his arm to put it around your shoulder and you just snuggled closer to him in response. "Whatcha doin here, Jamie?" you whispered to the fabric of his clothes. He just quietly hummed to the crown of your head and held you closer. 

It's time like this, you were left wondering about what you had with him. Sure both of you could be seen together from time to time, not as much as he was with the boys no. But you were friends as long as he was with them, too. And lately he's been very affectionate with you. Not that he wasn't before, it's just that… usually he only does that when there's only two of you. But now it's gotten more open and your friends have been asking you questions that you were really not sure how to answer either.

You've no idea how much time the both of you had spent just sitting there, watching the stars. It was all so calming. The gentle breeze that would occasionally caress both of your hairs, the gentle hum of hopelessly devoted to you  that emitted from his chest vibrates into yours, and the little light that slowly flickered on the corridor— wait? Oh sHI—

"STUDENTS! STUDENTS OUT OF BED!!" 

James and you immediately stumbled out of reverie and scrambled out of your seats to run away from Filch and his little kitty cat. Not caring about the consequences, both of your laughters rang throughout the whole corridor as you ran. But once you reached the moving staircase, instead of jumping to the one that would lead you to your common room, James dragged you to the one that would lead to the west wing of Hogwarts. But you just went with him, thinking that he would just take you to Astronomy tower.

But your assumption has proven you wrong once James stopped in front of an empty wall across the painting of Barnabas the Barmy. You just looked at him in confusion and asked, "Jamie, why'd you take me here?" James turned his body to you and grabbed both your hand in his,

"D'you trust me?" You raised one of your eyebrow up and tsked, " Does the centaur live in the Forbidden Forest? Does Sirius love Remmy? Does it hurt when I crawl my way up from hell? Jamie love, you're asking me a silly  question. Of course I do" and in response, he conjured a little black satin eye cover and made a gesturing move towards your eyes. You just snorted nervously and playfully push him back, " 'm not into that kinky stuff like Sirius does, J" which caused him to just grin and peck your cheek which left you frozen on the spot.

"C'mon bunny, where's the Gryffindor courage hmm?"

And in that moment of euphoria his kiss left you, you decided to throw all cautions to the window and,

" Y'want some Gryffindor courage hm? I'll show you some courage"

And as those words left your lips, you grabbed the collars of his white button up shirt and dragged him to your height only to smash your lips together.

Both of you knew as James reciprocated your kiss, that this is it. This was the thing that both of you have been waiting for for years. Each time spent together, each kisses left on your temple, his jaw, your cheeks, his forehead, has led to this singular moment that would be captured in time inside the walls of this castle. 

But the moment was ruined as a flash and a click of a camera was heard. You stumbled back as James tried to steady you with his hands on your hips. Both of you heard Sirius before he even made an appearance as his chuckles echoed on the empty corridor.

"Hey Blossom, thanks for the honorary mention of my love for moony, but CAN'T YOU JUST WAIT FOR A SECOND FOR THE KISS?? WE'VE BEEN SLAVING OURSELVES HELPING PRONGS TO GET THE ROOM READY AND Y'JUST—" 

His tirade then just got cut off short to the courtesy of Remus who just dragged him into a full blown snog against the wall. Your eyes widen as Sirius' words register in your brain.

"Jamie? What room is he ta—" all the words left your mouth as you see James standing there in front of a beautifully decorated room that clearly wasn't there before. James just chuckled lightly seeing your face and asked, "well, would ya like a dinner with me, then bunny?" with his puppy eyes that you could never resist.

"Well, if you insist then, My dear Jamie" you grinned up at him. He then linked your arm with him and led you to the center of the room where there stood an elegant dining table with candles surrounding the area. And as you took a glance at your James, you knew at that moment that you're going in for one hell of a ride, with this young man. But there's nothing in this world that would change your mind about choosing him. Ever.

☼︎𝒇𝒊𝒏☼︎

this is so precious, I'm crying 😭

Feverish (1.4k)

summary: when peter finds out you're sick, he opts not to go do his spidey business and takes care of you instead.

warnings: reader being sick, eating and food, mentions of pete bloody and beaten

pairing: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

a/n: look at me writing for someone other than james potter 👀 anyways, roommate au yall 🥰!!

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“You should just go, Pete. I’m fine over here, with my soup and … this really cold apartment.” You mutter bitterly, clutching your body tighter.

Peter scoffs, “When say shit like that I'm not assured about your well-being at all, Y/n." He sighed deeply and rubbed two fingers on his forehead.

"I insist that you go, do all your saving lives shit and come back to me with that sandwich roll I like from the corner store." You said, feeling more annoyed.

Peter put his hands on his hips dramatically, huffing a sigh and sitting down in your bed. You roll your eyes at him and press further into your sheets.

You respected and was really grateful that Peter wanted to stay at home and take care of you. But with his indecisive ass, he couldn't make up his mind. You told him countless times that you were okay, but the boy just wasn't having it.

He's been like this the moment you stepped inside the apartment. It was probably two years ago when you signed the lease to share with Peter. You were just fresh out of high school, new to the City and had no idea where you were. That was until you found the 'roommate wanted' sign in a sports centre it was posted under the name May— so you definitely didn't expect a male roommate. Turns out, Peter's aunt had helped with it, but she wasn't the one living there.

Slowly but surely, your friendship grew and bloomed in the small confines of the musty apartment. Both of you were way too broke to pay for a nicer place, months barely scraping by at your shitty jobs. This was part of the reason you couldn't turn the heater on because it cost a lot. So you settled into a nice, cheap, albeit a little rough routine.

Though somehow, Peter made it all feel good. Both of you ate from the Chinese restaurant near there almost every night, revelling in egg rolls and chicken soup. Somedays, pizza it was. Between studying, eating, and watching re-reruns of Friends episodes, life was good.

But that was before it happened. One night while you were sleeping, the door banged open. With a frightening yelp, you got our if bed with a spatula in hand to at least guard you against the sound.

But when the light was turned on by the supposed intruder, you were shocked. Peter Parker ... Peter Parker your roommate was in a Spiderman suit. And from then on, you knew Peter better as Spiderman. You sometimes still couldn't believe it, after watching him from the news screen, gliding all I've New York City.

But here you were now, laying in bed all sickly while he was by your side trying his best to keep you warm.

"Oh, God. You're shivering, what do I do?" He asks in a panicky voice, his eyebrows furrowing in complete confusion.

"Just shut up. It would make me feel a lot better." You grumbled, trying to focus on sleeping peacefully.

"I'm sorry we can't turn the heater on, shit just costs so much and we gotta save for winter." He changed the topic, biting on his nails guiltily.

"No, it's okay, m'fine." You mutter.

Out of nowhere, Peter suddenly puts a hand on your back and begin rubbing your body. Warmth spreading to you, not just on your body but also in your cheeks. Peter had always been quite the physical guy, cuddling with you in front of the television, leaning into you while you cooked, and so on.

Out of all those moments, you didn't know why him rubbing your back gently made you flush even redder. His hands go to your hair now, raking the strands and massaging your scalp.

"Feeling better?" He asks, chuckling a little at his own words.

"Mmh, not at all. But keep going, please." You said, revelling at the feeling of his soft touch. Peter is feeling your forehead, your cheeks, then your neck.

"You're really hot." He stated, gaping when he heard his own words.

You snicker at him, turning your head to his side, "Thanks, so are you Spiderman."

Peter groans at this because one of the things he hates is that you always bring up Spiderman. He said it was weird and felt like he was two people at once, always telling you to stop with it because it made him feel like someone else. But you couldn't really stop it, knowing something like this was huge.

Peter gets off the bed, his weight making the wood creak beneath him. "Come out for a sec, we'll get some soup in you and then you can rest for the day." He offers, a hand already extended so you could grab it.

You stare at the ceiling, giving Peter your hand. Your fingers innocently coil together. "Honestly, I don't have the energy anymore." You say tiredly, rubbing your head.

Peter seemed to frown when he saw your expression. You must have some sort of headache going on because you were rarely this unenergized. With nothing to say, he squeezed your hand and leaned his face forward to plant a kiss on your head. "Alright, I'll go bring it for you. Wait up for me, don't fall asleep just yet."

You smiled weakly at him. Your mind wandered to the times you've cared for each other. That one time when he came home all beaten up and bloody, his suit torn by the arm and his body limp. That was the source of your nightmares, seeing Peter like that hurt you more than anything did. He looked fragile, remembering that he was just as much a kid like you— but in a suit trying his best.

That night, you brought the first aid kit and pressed alcohol swabs to his skin. You winced every time he hissed, your heart hammering at the sight of him in pain. You had to help him shower for about a month or so, knowing how delicate the stitches you crafted on his skin were.

A knock on the door signalled Peter coming, you grinned at the sight of him inside your room. He bought a tray, in it was a bowl of soup, a tall glass of water, and a few pills. He set it down gently on your nightstand, taking out the bowl first and putting it in your hands. "Here you go, eat up."

"I could've gotten my own soup, y'know? I'm a big girl, Pete." You complain, though grateful as ever once you begin spooning the soup and feeling better with a filled stomach.

"Yeah, sure. You can't even change the showerhead setting." Peter starts, chuckling at the memory.

"That was one time!" You said loudly, but not quite a shout. "The roll thingy was hard to push, don't blame me!" You defended.

"No, no I just love teasing you." He admits. "Anyways, do you wanna watch something? I'll bring my laptop over here, I know you fall asleep faster with something playing on." He offers, a kind smile on his face.

You nodded at him through the spoonful of soup in your mouth. Then Peter was out the door, quick to bring his laptop and set something on it. He waited until you were finished eating, got the water out and helped you with the pill. After that, both of you settled in bed.

The heater wasn't on, so it was quite cold. But Peter kept you warm, his body basically covering you like a warm jacket. There were blankets strewn all over the bed, making it more comfortable for you and Peter.

Peter has a hand behind your back, caressing you over your large sweatshirt. He rubs you gently, careful not to make it harsher and cause you any discomfort. Another hand is clutched under the laptop to keep it steady.

And with a final look at the screen, your eyelids begin to close tiredly. When Peter takes note of this, he closes the laptop and lays you down gently. Then he's about to leave—

"Can you stay with me? You're really really warm and you take care of me so well." You admit, the heat on your cheeks are practically scorching.

Peter mutters, "Of course." As quickly as he jumped onto the bed. Your body is faced to the other side, so Peter takes it upon himself to spoon you gently. As he drapes his body over yours, you let out an appreciative hum.

Peter presses gentle kisses on the side of your head and you swear you've never come near bursting before. He takes his time with you, never rushing into your process of anything.

—@ wrathspoet

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oh my god 😭 <33

Unbuttoned (Sirius Black x Reader)

W/C: 1.8k

A/N: I just wanted to write the softest Sirius x Reader fic I could manage. It's just fluff, with a bunch of cursing. fem!reader & brief mentions of alcohol.

You realize you’re in love with Sirius Black in the midst of a storm so tempestuous it feels apocalyptic. And you suppose that’s fitting, given you’ve just acknowledged that the feelings you've been harbouring for one of your dearest friends are deeper and more achingly desirous than they have any right to be. This realization—the bottom of the chasm through which you’ve been falling for years—certainly feels like the end of something, but you’re hoping that this particular ending leads to the beginning of something infinite.

How did you get here? Not here, outside in the pouring rain on the abandoned Quidditch pitch in the middle of April. But here, in the rich complexity that is love; the tangle of feelings and thoughts and wants and needs and hopes and fears that makes you weak in the knees and yet completely invincible. Yes, you had fallen completely and terribly, tumbled heart first, into the abyss that was love. And there, at the depths of your soul was him. Sirius Black.

Sirius fucking Black. The boy who had copied your Transfiguration notes since first year. The boy who shimmied in beside you during breakfast and stole the toast off your plate because you, apparently, knew just the right ratio of butter to marmalade to bread. The boy who teased you about the your height (or lack thereof) and made it a point to dramatically get Potions ingredients from the top shelf of the storage room for you.

The boy who wasn’t a boy anymore, but a man. A man whose soul had ached and broken and healed with the love of his friends, whose shoulders had broadened and voice had deepened, and who had grown taller and more mischievous and increasingly loyal.

But why today? Why now? Was it those damn muggle movies you grew up watching that told you the rain was romantic and the bad boy — for Sirius was Hogwarts’ resident bad boy, though he cared little for the title — was supposed to fall for the quiet, bookish girl who’d been there by his side all along? It was so cliché that you’d turn the movie of your life off at this point. But today was the day that the realization slipped its warm fingers inside your chest and gave your heart one extra squeeze — as if to say hey, don’t forget to take care of me.

You’re not sure if it’s the fact that Sirius convinced you to come out here—not that he’d had to try very hard, making those perfectly persuasive eyes at you and insisting he needed to clear his head after studying for a grand total of twenty minutes. Or perhaps it was the way he quite literally swept you off your feet to fly you around the empty Quidditch pitch, your arms secured firmly around his waist and your chest pressed up against his back, holding on tightly because you’d never been a big fan of flying, much preferring to have your feet planted on solid ground, thank you very much. Maybe it’s both those things and so much more, because haven’t you been noticing the way your fingertips want to linger on Sirius’s skin and the way your stomach tightens when he catches your eye and shoots you a smile that somehow stops your heart and restarts it all at once.

Maybe it’s the kiss you shared at Christmas, both a little tipsy in front of the Potter’s fireplace, high on the sound of one another’s laughter and one too many pieces of Euphemia’s incomparable Christmas cake. That kiss that you haven’t talked about, but that still makes you blush every time you remember the way Sirius’s tongue had gently intertwined with your own and the way his hands had held you, one caressing the back of your neck while the other drew smooth circles on your stocking-clad thigh. Maybe it’s the idea that that kiss might have escalated, might have drawn you both out of yourselves and into each other had James not come bounding down the hall, shouting for the two of you to come see what Remus was doing.

(He’d been juggling, completely pissed on Firewhiskey and a fancy rum that Fleamont had purchased from a muggle liquor store. And while you had to admit Remus juggling was a sight worth seeing, you couldn’t help but to wonder what could have — would have — been).

Maybe it’s the way Sirius calls you puppy, the nickname holding connotations of care and ownership so that it thrills you each time the word leaves his sweet, sweet lips. Or, it could be the fact that he refers to you as his best girl, his pretty girl, his dove. Always his. Merlin, how you wished.

It’s certainly not helped by the knowing looks you’ve noticed Remus casting your way when he catches your eyes on Sirius instead of on the parchment of the homework you’re working on. The smug grin on his face when you quickly whip your eyes back to where they’re supposed to be. The absolutely frustrating way that Remus makes sure to leave space between the two of you in every class so Sirius has no choice but to sit sandwiched there. He’s such an outrageously good friend it makes you want to smother him — with hugs and sometimes a pillow.

Maybe it’s all of that and more — the way Sirius has barged into your dorm three Sunday mornings in a row now, just because he misses his girl (there it is again!), causing your roommates to groan; the way he whispered his gratitude when you bandaged his knuckles after he punched some Slytherin who spoke ill of Remus last week; the way he hugs you after each full moon to assure you that your friends are all in one piece and then lets you take care of him, allowing himself to be soft and vulnerable with you in a way that no one else is allowed to see.

Yes, it’s all of that. His charm, his recklessness, his joy, his pain, his loyalty, his smell, his voice, his hands, his heart and his soul and, of course, his hair. Saints, his hair is fucking perfect.

It’s funny the way the thoughts come to you like a deluge from your spot on his broomstick, streaking across the grey sky between bolts of lightning, your heart palpitating partly from the thrill of the ride, but mostly from the absolute impulsiveness of the decision you’re about to make.

“Sirius!” You call out over the swirl of wind that blows its course past you, somehow never interrupting the control he has of your flight, “We should land. It’s so bad out here!”

As if to emphasize your point, thunder claps loudly to punctuate your words and you feel your fingers dig deeper into Sirius’s sides, literally holding on to all that is dear. The only indication that Sirius heard you is the feeling in your stomach of falling—this time, literally. Your guts feel as though they’re still in the air as Sirius expertly hurtles you toward the Earth, stopping just short of the ground, his feet landing perfectly on the mud-streaked pitch.

You don’t realize you’ve been screaming until Sirius is laughing at you and turning to face you so he can grab your shoulders and steady you.

“I got you, Y/N,” he laughs heartily, “I’d never let anything happen to my best girl.”

Your hands are shaking as Sirius helps you off the broomstick, your boots sinking slightly in the muck.

“You’re mad,” you whisper at him, close enough to his body that you’re certain he can hear you despite the rain. In the back of your mind, you wonder how ratty you look right now with your hair sopping down your shoulders, your robes sticking to you, and your mascara probably running down your cheeks in unflattering streaks. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to care because Sirius has seen you at your best and he’s seen you at your worst and right now, you’re just you.

“Yes, probably,” he agrees with you, a smirk on his lips, “But you love it.”

Shit. You did. You love him. And though you’d never been as much of a daredevil as this boy—man—standing before you, there’s something on the tip of your tongue, battling to be let loose from your lips, threatening to burn you if you swallow it whole.

“I love you.” Your reply is in earnest and the way you say it makes Sirius pause, his own hair a dishevelled wet mess (yet still, somehow, perfect—fucker), his lashes fluttering at you as he tilts his head to the side. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out—that’s a first, and it makes you slightly concerned. Then his lips are pursed and his brow is furrowed and he backs up a step and you think your heart might stop beating and you want to sink into the mud completely, let it consume you and never give you back to the daylight.

“Don’t joke,” Sirius says, voice short and uncertain. You laugh—loudly. It’s the only reaction you can think to have and that laugh completely dies on your lips, replaced by something softer, yet more desperate. Him.

Sirius is kissing you—hard. He’s kissing you like his very salvation depends upon finding something in your kiss. What does he want to find? Requited feelings, warm comfort, infinity? You kiss him back, running your tongue along his lips, giving him all those things and more. Giving him yourself—his best girl, his pretty thing, his, his his, as you’ve always been.

His hands come up to tangle in your hair, one sliding down your cheek and you wonder if the wetness there is all from the rain or if you’re crying because it feels like a millstone has been lifted from your shoulders and you’re fairly certain if Sirius didn’t have a solid hold on you, you’d float away.

And then he’s pulling you even closer, bringing your body into the folds of his own and even though it’s raining and cold, you feel heated, like the sun is shining only for you.

Just as it feels as though your lungs will collapse with lack of air, Sirius’s lips let yours go and you inhale deeply, chest heaving. His is doing the same as he stares into your eyes, that vulnerability only you’re allowed to see fully on display.

“I wasn’t joking,” you say quietly, another crack of lightning illuminating the sky behind you. It’s nothing, you think, compared to the electricity you feel in Sirius’s gaze.

It’s his turn to laugh and then he kisses you again, softly and quickly this time. His lips are just hovering over yours, his hands on your waist. “I love you, Y/N.”